Alter Real
by Windsong
Summary: Discontinued.  There is more to Clow's world than anyone knew. A new deck, a new card captor, and new tragedies.
1. Gifts

-blink- Woah, it's been a while since I've written anything. Sorry, but junior year ate me alive; besides, I'm actually busier writing original stories than working on my fanfiction. I know, I know, a travesty. But such is the way of the world.

Anyways, look! I'm writing a CCS fic! Another one to add to the oodles of fics already running around...I'm not even sure why I'm writing this, really. It's just that...well...The idea's been haunting me for well over a year, and it just won't leave me alone! -growls- So I finally gave in to Avi and wrote the stupid thing.

Avi: Whaaat? You need practice! When was the last time you wrote?!  
Windy: Um...two weeks ago?  
Avi: -falls over-

What's with the name? Well, it _is_ A/U, and you can call A/U fics "alter real", since they're an alternate reality...-sweatdrop- And besides...Alter Real is an offshoot of the Lusitano breed of Horses. Eh, I liked the name. Leave me alone. In other news, this fic was heavily inspired by Nanashi-shinjokitty's fic, Shroud, as well as this _amazing_ ClowxYue fic by Kira Douji, called Separation Anxiety. And I'm well aware that Yoshiki is not in any way a Chinese name. I don't care. His name is Yoshiki. So there.

Anyways, so Avi can't kill me—disclaimers! -Avi sighs- Don't own anything. It all belongs to CLAMP, who is God, and, um, Kodansha? And yay! Yoshiki, Yume, Kaone, and the Silver deck are mine, though.

Well, anyways, on with the fic.

Enjoy!

* * *

Alter Real  
**Chapter One: Gifts**  
_By Windsong  
_Written February 2004

Clow Reed paused a moment to look up at the small house. It was neat, but not like Clow's house was neat. It had the feeling of friendly, barely-controlled chaos. The flowers were in the flowerbeds—but just barely; they were tangled and intertwined so tightly that no weed could hope to thrive, because no light ever hit the soil below them. The house, while no paint was peeling, was faded and stained through years of wear to a friendly, noncommital beige. The flagstone walkway under his feet was cracked, but somehow it managed to look artistic and unoffending. Wooden steps were worn by many years of a shuffling footstep, but the wear only served to give a soft, golden glow to the wood. As a whole, it was a comfortable house, well-broken in by age and use. It reminded him of that soft shirt he had, the one that he'd never allowed the housekeeper to throw out; the one that was thinning from use, but it was so soft and familiar that it felt like a second skin.

He lifted his hand and rang the doorbell, which sounded like wind chimes. It made sense, in a way; knowing the occupant, the harsh clanging of a usual doorbell would have irritated him, and he would have replaced it with a more natural sound.

The door opened with the faintest squeak, the pitch just low enough to be unoffending, but high enough to sound cheerful, like an overzealous maid greeting you when you entered. The person who stood in the doorway started a little before settling. He chuckled softly. "Well. You're the last person I expected to see." He sounded bemused. "Please, come in."

As he stepped in, Clow looked him over. His skin was tanned from hours working in the sun, and his small, narrow silver glasses stood out in stark contrast. Tall, like Clow, his long fingers gently shut the door behind him. His black hair was cut neatly short except for his long bangs, which would have fallen into his eyes were they not pushed to either side by the glasses. Of couse, there were a few stubborn strands that fluttered before the lenses—he ignored them. His clothing was simple; a silk black tunic and loose-fitting, brown cotton pants. Looking at him, you'd never know that he was a mage only a shade less powerful than Clow Reed himself.

Clow met his gaze, and was mildly startled by his green eyes. They were a deep, vibrant color, with the lightest streaks of grey, like haunting shadows of pain. They were curteous, the eyes of a nobly-born playing host, but only because Clow was there; normally, there were cheerful and merry, shining as if he knew some inside joke, and he was inviting you to laugh with him even though you had no idea what you were laughing about. But his eyes were curteous, and kind, and distant, because Clow was visiting him, something he hadn't done in twenty years, and Clow hadn't told him why yet. It depressed him slightly.

Isn't it depressing when your own brother puts up walls against you?

_'Well, he wouldn't be, if you visited him more often—'_

But he couldn't, because he was so wrapped up in work, and Yoshiki did live very far away. Japan was just close enough to make using magic to get there seem wasteful, but it was too far to visit casually. Besides, he'd been working so hard for the past few years that he had barely enough energy to fall into bed, much less make such a long journey. But he was finally done; he was satisfied, although it was likely that he would make a few more adjustments, perfectionist that he was.

But no matter how hard he was working or how exhausted he was, he always thought of Yoshiki, a constant that grounded his thoughts. After all, he was lonely; he had been lonely since Yoshiki had left twenty years ago, when he was nineteen years old. He had not agreed with his clan's fanatical devotion to keep the magical bloodlines pure, especially because he had fallen madly in love with a charming, beautiful—and nonmagical—woman of noble bloodline named Hinako. So, after a heated argument, Yoshiki declared that he was going to marry into Hinako's family, giving up his birthright to all of his clan's wealth, and stormed out the house. He never came back, never contacted the clan again—in turn, the clan pretended that he had never existed—got married to Hinako, and the two had several children. As far as he had heard, his brother had led a charmed, simple life in Japan, exactly the kind of life he wanted to live.

Clow also disagreed with his family's declaration to a pure bloodline, but not because he was in love with anyone. He disagreed because it hurt him to see Yoshiki leave, hurt him to see the pain and strife it caused in his family when they forced their children to choose between love for the clan and love for another, and he always, however quietly, agreed with and supported Yoshiki. Clow was the one who stood up for his brother whenever he got in trouble with their father (which was quite often). Yoshiki always charged forward; Clow was the careful one that always thought before moving. But Yoshiki also wasn't afraid to fight for his beliefs, no matter what the consequence; Clow was absolutely terrified, above all things, of being exiled by his clan, so he passively did whatever his clan told him to, no matter how much he disagreed with it.

Except in one area. After Yoshiki left, and he was forbidden to even say his brother's name, he decided to back up his brother in one last, final way. He would never marry outside of the clan—but he wouldn't marry a person he didn't love, either, and he very simply wasn't in love with anyone in his family. So he ended up being single his entire life. It infuriated the rest of his family, but because he obeyed every other edict they had ever given him, and because he had done so much to make his clan known for centuries to come throughout the entire non-magical world, they allowed him this one small defiance. Although it didn't stop them from throwing every acceptable and eligible female they possibly could at him. He didn't mind, although it did get awfully lonely, even with the guardians. And so he found himself missing his brother more and more as the years went by.

"So...what brings you here, brother?" Clow was asked as Yoshiki handed him a cup of tea, keeping a cup for himself, and sat down.

"I heard about Hinako," Clow said quietly, and he watched his brother's face drop, watched the light silver streaks in his eyes darken until they were almost black, mirroring the sharp stab of pain he knew his brother felt in his chest. "I'm sorry," Clow continued, never dropping his eyes or releasing his brother's gaze. "Even though I only knew her fleetingly, she was the most gentle, caring person I ever knew."

"She was—and thank you." Yoshiki smiled, however wavering it was. "It _hurt, _after her passing, not having anyone to talk to—" Clow could hear his mental whisper, _'not having _you _to talk to—'_ "but I am sure that her spirit dances in the afterlife." He then shook his head, as if to clear it, the streaks in his eyes fading back to their light silver. "But surely that isn't the only reason you came? To offer your condolences and have tea with me? I know you better than that—what is it that you really want, Clow?"

"Isn't it enough that I wanted to see my brother, pay him a visit after twenty years?" Clow laughed.

"No, especially because by visiting me you are breaking the clan laws, and especially because of the large amounts of work you've been doing for the clan recently—"

Clow was mildly offended. "I am _not_ doing it for the clan. That wasn't my original intention, anyway. I'm doing it to satisfy my own curiosity—_'and yours'_—and see how much I could accomplish. You remember how we used to talk about giving normal people some semblance of magical ability through magical items?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I managed to pull it off." Clow couldn't help but grin in satisfaction at the poleaxed look on his brother's face.

"Wha-what? You did?! _Really!?_" His eyes lit with excitement, a joy for life and an unbridled passion for living that Clow remembered well. It suddenly struck him how unhappy he had been, and being around his brother was releasing the knot of sadness that he had carried in his heart for so long that he didn't even notice it most of the time. Matter of fact, he had almost forgotten that it was there. But it was there, waiting to uncoil and wash over him at night, except now, it was gone. He felt truly happy for the first time since his brother had left.

_'I should visit him more often...'_

"Well, I created these cards—"

"Oh, I've heard rumors! 'Clow cards', isn't it?" His hands were beginning to wave around, like they always did when he was agitated or excited, and his gentle, rolling accent, picked up from living in this area with Hinako for so long, became stronger.

"Yes. I mean, it's not perfect, and the person needs to have at least a small amount of magic."

"But you still managed to create something that harnessed powerful spells that would normally be out of reach for a less-gifted individual, right?"

"Well, yes—"

"Then stop being modest and give me the details already!"

"Well, it's a summoning deck. Various spirits are contained within the cards, and by calling upon the name of the card, you activate the card's power. But activating a card still requires a certain amount of power—and you have to have enough power to get the spirit to respect you, and be able to convince the card to go back _into_ the card when you're done with it, so it's not perfect—"

Yoshiki flapped a hand dismissively. "Nothing is perfect. But the cards—that's amazing! I'm impressed, brother."

"But there's more," Clow insisted.

"More still? Tell me!"

"I created two decks."

"...Two? Why?"

"The first one could be considered a prototype—there are less cards, but the spirits are more powerful—and the amount of magic you need to activate it is slightly less. In the second deck, there are more, less powerful cards, and the magical requirement is higher."

"Higher? Why?"

"Well, since there are more cards, it requires more energy, in case you want to use a lot of cards as once. On the other hand, the prototype deck requires more strength of character—since the cards are more powerful they're less likely to listen to the user's commands."

"But how do you make that decision? How can you tell whether you have enough magic or strength of character—"

Clow raised a hand to quell his brother's questions. "That's why I created guardians."

"And what would those be?"

"Magical constructs, created to aid the person who controls the deck, and also to weigh the person's heart, to see if they are worthy—"

"_'Worthy'?_ Gods, come visit me more often!" Yoshiki interrupted, his green eyes dancing merrily. "You sound like father, stuffy, egotistical, and conceited! When was the last time you saw something besides books and walls?"

Clow Reed tried to supress an answering smile. "Today."

Yoshiki threw his hands up dramatically, flopping down to land on one of the squishy chairs. "Well, a time with me will hopefully cure you a little. But I digress—"

Clow cleared his throat and continued, "The Guardians also determine whether you reach the magical requirement, and whether you have a pure soul or not."

"In less spiritual terms—whether you're going to act responsibly or run around trying to kill things with the cards." Yoshiki raised a laughing eyebrow at his brother.

Clow didn't bother to surpress his laughter, and it rang out clearly in the quiet silence that surrounded the pair. "Basically," he agreed. _'Gods—when was the last time I laughed freely? That I even laughed at all?'_

"Wait...they judge, and guide—" Green eyes widened in shock. "They have conciousness?!"

Clow couldn't help himself, and he smiled proudly. "Yes, they do."

"Wow! You actually did it! Can you tell me how?" Suddenly, his face dropped, the grey streaks darkening. "...Or is that something only for the clan to know?"

Clow only smiled gently. "Since when have I kept any secrets from you, Yoshiki? Of course I'll tell you...in a moment. But first—"

Clow closed his eyes for a moment, stretching out his hands before him. The air above his hands wavered, shimmered, then seemed to glow, as a thin, high note pierced through the air, speaking softly of power, magic, things unseen. The room seemed to darken, all the light in the room drawn to a small ball of light hovering above Clow Reed's hands—and then the ball expanded, took another shape, the form of a ornate book of black and silver, heavy and fairly shining with magic.

"This is the Silver Deck," Clow said, his voice taking on a deeper timbre, his eyes shining gold. "The prototype. I cannot be the master of both decks, so...would you be the Master of the Silver Cards?" He held the book out towards his brother mutely.

Yoshiki stared at it. He could feel it calling to his long-unused magic; its call was a cry, a desperate, lonely cry for a master, for a home. "It has no magical ties to you," he replied, half in awe. "Why not?"

Clow's voice was strangely flat. "They bond to the card master, and no other. I am not its master...and its magic calls for you."

Yoshiki paused, considering. The book's cry had awakened a yearning in his own, one that was desperate for a companionship that would soothe the loneliness in his _own_ soul. Through the weighty silence, he reached out a hand and placed it over the book. "I accept," he said, simply.

Suddenly the green of his eyes was washed out by shining silver; under his feet suddenly a pentagram gleamed, glowing the same silver as his eyes. His clothing floated slightly on some unseen wind, and Clow released the book and stepped back, out of the circle, leaving the book hanging in the air. Out of the book suddenly appeared two balls of magic, one a brilliant white and one a dark obsidian, before they suddenly expanded and settled into their forms, two beings standing one on either side of the book—the Guardians.

On the right, stood—or, rather, hovered, for he floated about an inch off of the ground—a gryphon. His jet-black feathers absorbed the light. The primary feathers on his wings were banded in silver, and his intelligent, raptorlike eyes were outlined in the same silver, elongating them and giving him a hooded look. His silver claws reflected sharp shards of light, and his tufted ears and tail were tipped in silver. Dark grey eyes, the color of dark stormclouds at twilight, coldly assessed Yoshiki. A long feathered crest ran from the top of his head to the nape of his neck, the same color as his eyes. Around his powerful neck he wore a large, ornate black collar, inlaid with silver shaped into arcane, magical symbols, and dotted with mother-of-pearl, opal, and moonstone. Dangling from his left ear was a small drop earring, also made of mother-of-pearl.

To the left of the book hovered a woman, flanked by two shimmering, stunning angel wings. They were iridescent with every pastel shade imaginable, each feather a different color. They were translucent, and looking at them gave one the impression of looking through a stained glass window. Her eyes were a deep amber, and her black hair spilled to her hips. Her bangs almost obscured her eyes, but not quite, and behind them rested an iridescent diadem similar to the gryphon's collar. Light, gauzy material covered her arms in wide bell sleeves, half-hiding large bracelets on her wrists, covered in the same silver-and-opal pattern as the diadem. The same light material, but less see-through now, covered her torso, leaving her midriff exposed. Between her breasts rested a large, unfaceted black jewel, outlined in silver. Finally, she wore a long, ankle-length black skirt with thigh-length slits on either side. A thin rope of woven silver rested low on her hips, tied closed with another black gem, the loose ends left free and weighted with moonstones.

The gryphon met Yoshiki's eyes squarely, eyes cold. A deep male voice echoed strongly in his brain. _"Yoshiki Wei Reed Tanaka, I name you. Claim you these cards as your own?"_

The potential card master swallowed hard. "Yes."

Yoshiki shivered as he felt the guardians delving through all the secrets of his soul. _"His will is pure—"_

_"And his magic is strong,"_ finished a rich feminine voice, also in his mind.

_"Then he is accepted?"_ Clow asked, speaking soundlessly, as the guardians did. Yoshiki jumped; he had forgotten he was there.

The woman met his eyes squarely, measuring him one final time. After her moment her reply came. _"The cards call for him,"_ she replied simply, her voice resonating through the air in waves of echoes, almost as if she were speaking from the bottom of a well.

Out of the book floated a small object; a pure-black feather, with a shaft of silver, attached to a thin silver chain.

_"Yoshiki Tanaka is the Master of the Silver Deck,"_ the gryphon finished, but his words did not echo, instead weighted with heavy finality.

Suddenly, all traces of magic fled from the room; the guardians vanished and the book fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud as the light returned. Clow dove forward to catch his brother as he collapsed.

"Yoshiki! Are you all right?"

When he opened his eyes, they were their normal, warm green. "Sorry, brother. I haven't done a magical working of that magnitude since I left the clan…" Yoshiki closed his eyes. "I'm a little tired, but I'll be fine in a minute; just help me to the sofa, will you?"

After a few minutes, Yoshiki blew out a breath, ruffling his bangs, and opened his eyes again. "That's the prototype, you say? "

"Yes," Clow replied, eyes still full of worry.

"The one with the lower magical requirement? But—it would kill a normal person!"

_"We are sorry,"_ a now-familiar rich, feminine voice echoed throughout the room. _"And you are wrong."_

"What?" Yoshiki gasped as he abruptly straightened in the chair, eyes wide with shock. In contrast, Clow was calm, as if this happened every day. Then again, considering the life he led, it probably did.

_"It was not the magical requirement which drained you, it was our own examination of your soul, and your power,"_ continued the voice.

_"And we are sorry. We were harsher than we intended, rougher than necessary. We will be more gentle in the future,"_ chimed in the gryphon.

"It's okay," Yoshiki replied, feeling a little awkward about talking to a book on the floor. Clow walked over to the book, and as he picked it up and brushed it off he called, half in admonishment and half in laughter, "Don't just hide in there, come out and introduce yourselves properly!"

The gryphon and the angel flickered into existence with no warning, looking distinctly grounded in the real world and no longer mystical and ethereal, like they had during Yoshiki's Judgement. Well, as normal and real as a gryphon and an angel can look, anyway.

"I am Kaone," the Gryphon said, bowing low so his beak nearly touched the floor, "of the comet."

"And I am Yume of the rainbow," said the woman, also bowing low.

Yoshiki looked very amused. "I'm Yoshiki. Nice to meet you," He said, not bothering to suppress his ironic smile. Yoshiki could sense the constructs' uncertainty, and hastily added, "You can go look around the house if you want."

Bowing again, the creatures left the room, acting for all the world like curious children. Smiling, he commented, "I'm surprised at how humanlike you've made them."

"They were labors of love, so perhaps it's no surprise," Clow said fondly, the expression on his face reminiscent of a proud parent sending his children off into the world. "They surprise me every day."

Yoshiki turned to his younger brother with a grin on his face, shaking Clow out of his mood. "Well, now that that's over, down to business!"

"Business?" Clow replied blankly.

"Of course—like how you managed to make those constructs, and how you made the deck, and what spirits you contained, and how you convinced them to stay in the cards, and—"

"Okay, okay, I understand!" Clow cut him off, laughing as he waved his hands in front of him. "I'll tell you everything."

- - - - -

The moon was setting by the time Yoshiki's curiosity was satisfied. Seeing the moon's gentle fire silver the cherrywood table in front of him, he suddenly remembered. Stifling a yawn, Clow said with some regret, "Yoshiki, if I do not want my _own_ guardians to worry, I must be heading back. Yue worries too much already; I would not want to worry him further. But there are a few things I must tell you, and ask of you, before I go."

Yoshiki nodded, and as the two of them got to their feet he replied, "Yes?"

"Kaone has a smaller form that he can use to conserve energy; a hawk. Yume has no other form—not even her wings disappear."

Yume commented, "A good thing, for I would never give up my form, as the others do." There was a hint of steel in her voice. Kaone had finished his explorations long before, and contented himself by sitting at Yoshiki's feet like a gigantic cat; Yume, meanwhile, was still roaming about the room, looking at his bookshelves with avidity.

"I would never ask you to," Yoshiki murmured in reply.

"Also—I must ask you to try and keep the deck in your family line. Magic of this kind tends to respond better to blood-kin. Maybe it's the magical signature distinctive to each bloodline—I don't know."

I will try my best, Clow. Don't worry; the Silver Deck will be safe in my care." Yoshiki opened the door for his younger brother, deep affection in his gaze. "Thank you—for everything. I've really missed you."

Clow Reed stopped in the threshold, turning back to meet Yoshiki's gaze. His eyes softened into a small, sad smile. "I've missed you too, Yoshiki," he said, softly. "I'm glad I came to visit you."

"And if you don't come to visit me more often I'll find some way to haunt you until I do!" Yoshiki laughed evilly.

Clow smiled in response, and suddenly grabbed his brother in a hard hug. "I'll come to visit you. I promise."

"Reed clan honor?" Yoshiki asked mischievously, a little muffled by Clow's shoulder.

"I haven't heard that since—"

"Since I left? Of course." Yoshiki gently disentangled himself from his brother's arms, smiling at his brother. "See you soon."

"Ja mata ne," Clow said with care, quickly looking up to grin into his brother's surprised face. "Did I get it right?"

"Accented, but pretty good," Yoshiki grinned. "See you soon!" Clow bowed a little, smiling, before purposefully setting off at a brisk walk away from the house.

Yoshiki smiled fondly at his brother's back. "Safe journey," he whispered, almost to himself, before he walked back into his home, gently closing the door behind him.

- - - - -

The two decks were handed down through ages and generations, until two clans forgot that they had a counterpart. Except for the guardians; they never forgot anything—but they never saw any reason to mention it.

The two clans were very different from one another. Clow Reed's clan was always tradition-bound and fanatically kept their bloodlines pure; and never did they leave China.

Tanaka Yoshiki's clan, however, respected magic, but did not practice it on any wide scale, and true to Yoshiki's precedent they always married for love, never magic. As a result, their bloodline and magic got diluted, and fewer and fewer members of the family could harness the Silver Deck's power. There had, at one point, been one small line of Yoshiki's clan that had tried to keep the magical bloodline pure, but it had been all but wiped out long ago.

Now, the Silver book of Clow was still guarded heavily, but it was viewed as an ancient, mysterious family heirloom, and no one knew its true power. Handed down from generation to generation, it now made its home in the back corners of attics, hardly treated with the respect it once received.

But magic is timeless, and has the patience of immortality. The Silver Deck waited silently, ready for the day when its next Master would appear and call it forth once again.

* * *

Ja mata ne: "See you later." Clow usually speaks Chinese, but he's trying to speak Japanese here.

That's it, minna. Wow, this chapter's eleven pages long…I do believe this may be the longest chapter I've ever written. Feel loved. I hoped you enjoyed it, at least... Thanks for reading.

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

_"Life should be like a dream, so when it becomes too scary, we can wake up." -Hagakure_


	2. Accidentals

Oh, much love for kedima, for assuring me that Reed was in fact his last name and that I wasn't going insane. Thank you, kedima!

Quick disclaimer: Ayame, Haru, Kaone, Yume, Yoshiki, and the Silver Deck are mine. Nothing else is. So don't sue.

Enjoy!

* * *

Alter Real  
**Chapter Two: Accidentals**  
_By Windsong  
_Written June 2004

It had been an accident.

So they said.

Ayame didn't believe them for a moment. Her parents were the most careful people she had ever known. Their meticulous habits and attention to detail had nearly driven her insane. And never, her entire life, _never_ had they ever had an accident. And accident was simply—unthinkable.

And yet now they were dead.

Her parents.

Dead.

Because of an _accident_.

Now she lived with her aunt and uncle, with only her brother for company. And Haru was worse off than she was.

_Much_ worse. Haru was a gentle, shy, timid boy, who grounded his life upon three things—his father, his mother, and his sister. Their parents' death had hurt him far too deeply, and in response he had withdrawn into the dark corners of his mind. He was barely a shadow of his former self, and he refused to communicate except mind-to-mind. That meant that he spoke only to Ayame. But every shared word between them was torture; every time one talked telepathically, one had to touch mentally, and whenever they touched she inadvertently brushed the parts of his mind that were hurt so deeply, causing a sharp stab of pain to lance through both their heads. Talking to Haru always gave her a severe headache, and she knew it was worse for her brother; at times, she had seen silver tears streak quickly, silently down his cheeks. But she forced him to talk to her anyway; she knew the talking would help him heal, no matter how much it hurt.

As far as Ayame knew, she, Haru, and her parents were the only people in her entire family that were—freaks. That was the best, the nicest way to put it. They could do things that no one else could. No one who was _normal_ should be able to speak telepathically to someone, or talk to spirits, or sense someone around a corner or behind you without even seeing them or hearing them or _anything_, or heal wounds, or start fires with a thought. But they could.

And now only Ayame and Haru could, and the rest of her family treated them like wild beasts that would turn on them in a moment. No one talked to them, and because it was summer vacation they were never allowed out of the house. They were given rooms with the bare necessities—a bed, a drawer, a lamp, and a chair—and they were heavily encouraged not to touch _anything_ in the house. Ayame sometimes thought it would have just been better for everyone if they had just abandoned them—offered them up for adoption. But how would that look? The mighty and powerful Tanaka clan not able to take care of their own. And besides, who knew what kind of people would adopt them? And what if they got separated? No, it was probably best that they had come under their aunt and uncle's wing, no matter how much the couple despised them.

_Let them despise us,_ Ayame thought sullenly. _I only need my brother and my own wits anyway. Although I have to admit, a few books would be nice..._

Somehow, she had convinced Haru to come back with her; to sneak out of their Aunt's house and back to their old home—to the place where their parents had had their...accident.

Because it _wasn't_ an accident. There was no way it could have been. So that meant there was more going on than they knew. There was a definite back story; their Aunt and Uncle weren't telling them everything. It was very likely that something—or some_one_—had killed them. And Ayame was determined to uncover the truth.

Haru's mind was climbing the walls in panic and terror. Ayame sent him a wave of calm, but it barely helped.

: Don't want to go back don't want to go— :

: Haru, we have to go! If we don't, we'll never know why! And we have to know— :

: We DON'T! I don't want to know why! Just leave me alone: In his terror, he shoved his sister violently out of his mind, the telepathic force of it actually locking her body in place. She looked at him in confused horror; Haru had never lashed out at her before. As she slowly willed her body to move again, Haru's tear-filled eyes met hers. : Ayame, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— :

: I know. It's okay. : Ayame's senses were on full alert; it was midnight, and the streets were not exactly the most hospitable place for Haru and Ayame to stop and talk in.

: Haru...please? For me? We'll never do this ever again, I swear! Please. I have to do this:

Haru's dark eyes looked like black diamonds in the weak lamplight as he studied his twin sister. He looked like his father, with those eyes; Ayame carried the trademark Tanaka eyes, deep green with silver streaks, and straight black hair held in a high ponytail.

Silently, Haru nodded, and the two continued their stealthy trek home.

Ayame had chosen their entry point carefully. She gently opened the window to their old room with a soft _click_. As they landed carefully on the plush wine-red carpet, she could feel Haru relax, almost against his will. She smiled softly. _I knew it would help. Surround him with things he knows aren't a threat, and he can't help but relax a bit._

: Come on: she whispered to her brother, pulling on his hand. The house was covered with dust, and Ayame wrinkled her nose in distaste. Things were thrown everywhere, leftovers from the small, hurried police investigation. Everyone had known it was just for protocol; no one would dare investigate the Tanaka clan for long. That, more than ever, brought home the fact that her world had been whirled upside-down; never had their house been anything less than near-unnervingly spotless.

Their parents' workroom—which Haru and Ayame had never been allowed to enter—was on the second floor. That was where the "accident" had occured. Haru began to tense as they approached the silent, closed door. : Ayame— :

: Hush! Everything will be all right. It's home: Like Ayame had intended, he quieted at the reminder of safety, although he did not let his guard down. _All the better—who knows what's behind that closed door?_

Taking in a deep breath, she swung the door open slowly. The room was pitch-black, and as Haru leaned over Ayame's shoulder to peer inside, Ayame lost her balance and they both stumbled headlong into the room. When Ayame regained her balance, she froze for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; she felt Haru do the same, but out of fear, not wariness.

: It's too late to back out now: Ayame told her brother before he could bolt. Slowly, she saw a large, squarish object resting on a pedestal in the direct center of the room. The room was lighter around it; almost like it was giving off light, or if a very weak lamp was shining upon it. As she looked around, she saw hundreds of trinkets scattered randomly across dust-covered shelves and drawers. But none of that was as enticing as the object on the pedestal...

Haru's eyes were wide and blank as he walked over to the book. Ayame followed him uncertainly. As they came closer, she gasped in amazement, her eyes widening. It was the oldest, most beautiful book she had ever seen. It was flat and large, but rather thin. Bound in supple black leather and embroidered in shining silver, strange, flowing symbols ringed the outside, and a pair of arcs crossed paths in the center. Looking closely, she saw that one arc was half of a rainbow, while the other was a long tail of a comet. On the very top of the design was pair of iridescent wings. The wings weren't thread, and weren't leather; they seemed to be some kind of opalescent stone impressed into the cover. The book had a latch, like some ornate diary, also of black leather, the latch of pure silver, with runes etched deeply into the metal.

Suddenly, a flash of movement distracted her from the book's spellbinding splendor; Haru's hand moved purposefully towards the latch. As his hand moved closer, the silence and darkness suddenly gathered closer, became opressive; the air became thick, and Ayame suddenly found herself fighting for breath as a sickening feeling of dread washed over her.

: Haru, no, don't touch it: She screamed, her hand darting outwards to smack his hand away.

Too late.

Their hands both brushed the latch at the same time; but while Ayame pulled her hand back in horror to clasp it over her mouth, Haru's hand pressed firmly against it, hand flat against the leather.

The book glowed silver, softly, and Ayame looked on with shock as the latch fell to dangle off the side of the pedestal and the book's cover was slowly opened by some unseen hand. Aside from that, nothing happened. Ayame dropped her hands back to her sides, chagrined. _Now I feel stupid..._

Inside the book was a stack of cards. Ayame stepped forward to stand next to her brother as he picked up a card without hesitation, examining its back, decorated with the same design as the book's cover. Ayame's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong; Haru never moved so purposefully, never stayed so silent, never had eyes so luminous, like clouds backlit by moonlight...

With a simple flick of his fingers, Haru flipped the card over to its front, and Ayame was distracted by its breathless beauty. Drawn on the card was a woman, dressed in a long, flowing kimono, her ears slightly pointed, her eyes predatory. Her face was delicate, narrow, fey. One arm stretched to the right, the hand hanging limply. The other arm curved in front of her, also to the right, the fingers pointing up in a diagonal towards her shoulder. She looked like she was sitting in the crook of a branch, but instead she sat on a cloud. Her hair swirled around her, as if tossed by some tempestuous gale. On the bottom was the name of the card, written in calligraphy. She peered closer, trying to read the strange symbols; it was written in English, not her strongest language.

Then she heard Haru take a quick, purposeful breath, and then say, "The Storm." Her eyes widened in fear as she heard his words echo in the silence.

Ayame's shaking whisper seemed as loud as a scream: "Haru?"

Then the whole world shattered.

Silver ripped across her sight, making her shriek and throw her arm up to cover her eyes; her ears were filled with the shrill song of wind whipping around her. Her clothing flapped crazily as she forced herself to open her eyes, squinting at the sudden light, the once-dark room now bright as day.

The woman had flown out of the card, her kimono and hair fluttering wildly in the gale, as her silver eyes, luminous with cruel apathy, locked Haru's gaze. Staring at her brother, she saw his eyes had been drained of color, leaving only an eerie whiteness. A silver pentagram glowed eerily on the wooden floor below his feet, his body frozen, his mouth locked in a small "o" of surprise. Ayame felt her magic flare protectively to life, and as it filled her she saw what seemed to be millions of silver threads connecting the woman to her brother. Waves of disorientation struck her as she gazed upon the threads. Something was wrong with them, something had gone horribly wrong—

With a contemptous look, the woman threw her hand outwards, and a bolt of lightning arced from her hand to Haru. Haru stiffened, his eyes widening as his mouth widened into a terror-filled scream. His back arched, and Ayame suddenly realized: the bolt of lightning wasn't feeding Haru, it was feeding _her_—

Haru's eyes blackened again, looking like dark stones as he crumpled to the floor. The woman pulled her hand back, turning her head this way and that as if searching for something. Ayame suddenly found her voice and screamed, "HARU!" The woman's eyes flicked towards her; eyes flaring in cruel satisfaction, she stretched her hand out towards the girl.

Ayame suddenly felt herself filled with rage. Her hands clenched as her mouth twisted into a snarl, and she roared "NO!" at the woman in a clear challenge. The woman paused, looking at Ayame with new consideration.

Then he book glowed again, and another shape burst from it, riding the wind. It was a strange creature, half eagle and half lion, a figure of black sharply contrasting the harsh silver light. Suddenly her mind supplied its name: _Gryphon—_

It hissed sharply at the woman, clearly reproachful, powering its wings to hover challengingly before her. The woman's eyes widened in—fear?—before thousands of silver threads exploded from the creature's body, tangling her tight. She glowed a bright silver and then seemed to dissolve, the threads squeezing her into a small, long, rectangular shape.

Suddenly, the wind ceased, and the room was plunged once again into darkness; the gryphon and the book glowed as the creature gently landed on the ground, clutching a black-and-silver card in its right claw.

Suddenly exhausted by terror and horror, she felt her legs start to shake as the creature turned to meet her eyes.

Seeing those eyes, the same silver as that strange woman—it was too much; Ayame felt herself begin to crumple to the ground before everything went black.

* * *

There's chapter two, minna! Hoped you liked it. -grins- I've got nothing to say, so...I'll be seeing you.

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

_"Let's pretend, happy end" -Garbage, __You Look So Fine_


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